


Mother Knows Best

by Hogwarts_A_History_1998



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, askaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hogwarts_A_History_1998/pseuds/Hogwarts_A_History_1998
Summary: Walburga Black never had high hopes for her eldest son.





	Mother Knows Best

It is known, by the entirety of the wizarding world, that Askaban is the worst place imaginable. It's meant to be. The shrieking of fellow prisoners and the unhappy chill from the dementor's are what the criminal's deserve, after all. At least, that's what magical family's have taught their children for thousands of years. Parents used the threat of a long painful existence to teach their children to obey.

The noble and most ancient house of Black was no exception.

Sirius Black, heir to the fortune and family name, was four years old the first time he heard of the wizard prison.

One morning in late fall, when it was too cold to play outside, little Sirius tore through the house in dark dress robes, which had been perfectly pressed by Kreacher. His hair wasn't that of Sirius the man, his mother wouldn't have it. Instead, his raven locks are tame and slick, tucked behind his ears. His stormy grey eyes are already showing hints of all the mischief he is capable of. 

Sirius gripped the hand of three year old Regulas and ran up the stairs. 

"Whata doin Sirius," the toddler babbled, "where going?"

"To escape the hallway monsters," Sirius explained. He meant the portraits lined up around the entryway, of course. The noble and most ancient house of black, all with their fierce eyes and gaunt faces. "They're all vampires, Reggy."

Grimmauld place was never a good place to raise children. There were too many sharp edges, too many monsters in the corners, too many ancient artefacts.

When the boys reached the landing Sirius skidded to a stop. Regulas crashed into his brother's back. Sirius was small for his age, the younger boy easily sent both of them crashing. They landed directly on an ancient vase, probably haunted by the souls of all the Blacks who'd died, and it shattered with a loud noise. 

Sirius winced in anticipation of what was to come.

The noise of the case didn't scare him, it was the click clack of high heels approaching on hardwood that sent the young heir's heart straight to his throat.

Walburga Black, nearly six feet tall, was the thing in Grimmauld place most unsuitable for children. She approached her sons and kneeled in front of them. Sirius stood in front of his brother, but it wasn't Regulas that Walburga was after, not this time.

"Regulas go to your room," she spoke with no softness, not at all like a mother should be.

The boy toddler away, he didn't know what they'd done wrong, he didn't unders and and. He only understood the fear welling up in his gut, that fear kept him from looking back at his brother, who stood tall with his shoulders thrown back, as they had both been taught.

"Sirius," the woman stood up and regarded the four year old as if she had a bad taste in her mouth, "come into my study and let me tell you a story."

Sirius squirmed in an uncomfortable chair as his mother recounted the tale of a young boy, not much older than himself, who got too rowdy. The boy wreaked havoc on his neighborhood and didn't listen to his parents. He played with muggles as if they were no different.

At this point in the story, Sirius thought of a young blonde girl who lived a couple of blocks away. They met in the park sometimes, when their nanny would take them. Sirius liked the girl, she made good sandcastles, with towers and moats. Sirius would pretend to be a prince, and the girl would be a princess. Together, they'd solve the problems of a whole kingdom in an hour.

"Do you know what happened to this boy," Walburga directed a piercing gaze at the child, she tapped her dagger fingernails on the marble top of her desk.

"No mother."

"They took him away," her fingers stopped tapping. "They took him away to askaban, and the dementors sucked out his soul."

"Soul?" Sirius hadn't heard that word before, but he could tell by the look on his mother's face, that a soul was a very important thing to keep.

"Yes Sirius, his soul." Walburga walked around the desk and touched the boy's face in a moment of mock tenderness. She punched his cheek just a little too hard, but Sirius didn't flinch. "If you don't straighten up, child, your father and I are going to have to let the dementors take you away."

With that, she was gone. Her heels clicked away, growing fainter as Sirius let the message soak in. From then on, he had nightmares about black shadows coming for him in his sleep.

On a grey morning, when it rained so hard it cam was in through the windows, Sirius Black was pulled out of sleep by a nightmare. It was the same one, a black shadow loomed over him and he couldn't fight off the feeling of despair.

For a moment, he's confused. Why is he sleeping on the concrete floor in an unfamiliar room? Then he remembers himself. He's no longer a child. Sirius is a man. The shadowy creature still looms over him, but it's no longer a dream. 

While the dementors stuck out his happiness, while the deaths of his friends plays on repeat in his head, the wrongly accused man can think only one thing.

"My mother was right."


End file.
